


Deadlines and Commitments

by Fayet



Series: Those Who Favour Fire [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AUish, Alchemy, Angst and Humor, Backstory, Dialogue Heavy, Dueling, Gen, Mentor/Protégé, Not Really Canon Compliant, Pre-Canon, Wizarding Academics, Wizarding World, can be read as standalone, what if
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-06-05 05:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6692227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fayet/pseuds/Fayet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forming a defensive league against the rising dark star of Tom Riddle alias Voldemort Albus Dumbledore has quite a bit of work on his hands. Building up a network of friends and followers there is still one thing he needs: more information, and an inside man. It doesn't take long until he sets his eyes on the rather brilliant but completely unbearable young Potionsmaster Severus Snape. A pity, though, that young Snape seems to want anything but join a league of dim-witted Gryffindors... </p><p>Written as pre-canon, fits into the "Those who favour fire"-series, but can nicely be read as standalone. Features a lot of wizarding academia, the Guild of Potionsmasters and Alchemists, collegiate duelling, and two very clever men trying to outwit each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Expectations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeadpanDebutante](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadpanDebutante/gifts).



> I've wanted to write a take on the "How did Snape become Dumbledore's man?" question for a long time, because I've always had the sneaking suspicion that it might not have been his idea at all. 
> 
> The most important things first: This is not canon compliant, especially ignoring anything we've seen past PoA. It's building on the works in the "Those who favour fire"-Series, which include a lot of headcanons I've had ever since the days before the books afterwards appeared. If you know the series you will recognise quite a few characters and plot-twists from there. However there is no need to read anything else in the Fire-verse, as this is written as a prequel of sorts and completely makes sense on it's own - if you are willing to allow me some wiggle-room with the characters and plot. If you don't like this approach, well.. you're not going to like it.
> 
> Features a lot of world-building concerning wizarding academics, dueling as a sport and alchemy.
> 
> According to plan this will update once a week. I'll try my best. (Liar. I'm sorry. I am still working on this, but alas..)
> 
> And, finally: this is a gift, and I do hope she'll like it.

From his place high behind the richly ornamented cathedra Albus Dumbledore looked around the large hall one last time. 

"If nobody else has any final remarks I would like to close this year's summer meeting. We will see each other again in this place for the general meeting before Christmas. I wish all of you success in your endeavours."

The heads of the assembled Potionsmasters and Alchemists bobbed in unisono agreement, and almost thirty fists pounded their approval on the wooden benches in true academic style. Then the silence was broken by the scratching of wooden chair legs on stone, rustling of robes and the immediate begin of chatter and commentary to this summer's proceedings. The masters belonging to the Guild met two times a year, attendance mandatory. So far nobody had tried to avoid their meetings, even though practising alchemists tended to live secluded lifestyles, unlike their more academically inclined counterparts. 

Even the newest addition to the Guild, twenty-five years old and freshly minted Potionsmaster - a scandal if there ever had been one - had been present, albeit reluctantly. As it was tradition the young man had been seated in the very final chair in the last row, and spent the proceedings mostly looking either lost in thought or utterly bored. He hadn't even bothered to don proper wizarding robes and caught more than one disapproving glance for his ensemble of jeans and a worn-out navy t-shirt underneath a black jacket. 

Albus didn't find it in him to judge him. The Guild had been utterly against accepting his application as a candidate for the master examination during last year's winter meeting, sparking a vivid shouting match between two seasoned and well-regarded potionsmasters in the middle of the proceedings. Albus, as residing Grand Master of the Guild of Alchemists and Potionmasters, had been forced to break the collision of two strong spirits up before things could turn into a duel. It hadn't stopped Master Croll from throwing dark glances at the Basilius Valentinus, the ancient potionsmaster who had - to the surprise of everybody - taken young Snape in as an apprentice two years ago and then backed his application for the exam with a recommendation. Well-known but a recluse, older even than Albus himself and blessed with a dangerous tongue, a widely feared temper and a taste for the Dark Arts Valentinus had been the right master to wrangle with the young man for two years. Their open disagreements had become famous, and more than one guild member has secretly confided to Albus that they were only still attending the non-mandatory plenary meetings to watch Basilius shout at his young and stubborn apprentice in Byzantine dialect. Snape had never been shy to yell back, and there had been a wide array of rumours circulating how they actually got along living together in Basilius' ancient house located in the middle of nowhere, southern England. Valentinus still suscribed to the old tradition of having his apprentices run his house, combining the position of student, cook, housekeeper and personal slave in one person. Many claimed that this, his terrible temper and the fact that he had hated every single one of his students were the reasons he hadn't had an apprentice for decades. But even though Valentinus never said a good word about Snape they had never duelled in public, and the sudden amount of exciting papers they jointly handed in for publication in the Guild's "Alchemy Quarterly" had finally convinced even the last guild member that they were, against all odds, working very well together. 

In the end the Guild had accepted the application and set a date for an examination that everybody expected the young man to fail. Twenty-five was the minimum age to be even considered for the exam, and nobody had ever attempted it at that young age. There had even been a betting pool, one that Albus had just so managed to not participate in. 

The public exam had turned into the event of the year, drawing the current members of the Guild in like fire the doomed moth. Nobody would have held it against the young candidate had he failed, not with the strange grudge the Guild held against this newest wunderkind. And nobody had been prepared for what happened then. 

He passed. With flying colours, embarrassing one of his examiners on the way by proving that the usual, age old and trusted approach towards extract usage in highly potent painkiller potions had flaws that could lead to a cross-contamination of two substances usually regarded as minor, changing the potency of the potion drastically and reversing its effect. It had been a solution to a question pondered by those in the field for a long time, and for all the world it seemed like the candidate had come up with it during the exam itself, walking the board through his thought process effortlessly, almost unwillingly. The issue had not even been in the general catalogue of questions approved by the Guild. It had come up during a disapproving reaction one examiner had towards a point the candidate made, been used by the recognised leading expert in the field as an analogue point to prove the candidate wrong, and had then been turned around and thrown, torn and useless, before the feet of the old man. He hadn't taken it lightly, needing three days and a whole bag of lemon drops to let go of his defeat at the hands of a scrawny young man with too much brain and too few social skills. 

The betting pool had gone to the only master who had put in a few coins in favour of young Snape, and everybody at that time had thought that Basilius Valentinus had just shown a very unusual display of loyalty to his apprentice. Albus hadn't been able to stop himself from congratulating the grumpy Byzantine Alchemist after the fact, and even taken it in good spirit then Valentinus had simply snorted and disapparated without a reply.

Nicholas Flamel had been less forgiving for having his passionate discourse on the virtues of the Opus Magnum interrupted. While he was waxing poetic about the age old quest for the Philosophers' Stone the candidate had simply interjected with a deadpan rebuke and a detailed statement on the usefulness of Spagyrik, this mostly overlooked and generally unimportant science of healing potions real Alchemists didn't touch with a ten foot pole. 

It seemed that young, brilliant and generally disliked Severus Snape did not care what real Alchemists did or did not. He had a well-known scorn for any kind of rule that prohibited him from doing exactly what he wanted when he wanted, and this scorn was especially obvious when those rules impeded on his work. That was the one thing Albus Dumbledore knew for sure: the young man was a real talent in his field, hard working, unafraid to try new ways to answer old questions. But he was also proud, everybody knew that, and nobody understood how a man who held his crocked nose so high it could rain into it could churn all his talent over to the least respected branch of the entire science.

Albus, though, had an inkling. 

The scandalous examination had not been the first time the young man had come to his attention. Naturally, of course, since he had seen almost every young wizard and witch in Great Britain in the last decades passing through Hogwarts, and young Snape had been no exception. 

He had been, though, insofar that Albus had kept a close eye on him even after he had left the old castle for good and progressed to take up his studies at St. Aurelius, College for Alchemy and Arithmetic in Oxford. It was rare that Hogwarts students decided to proceed in their education beyond the school level, but Snape had left the school with impeccable grades and a terrible record everywhere else. Nobody else had collected top grades and broken bones, written too long essays in nearly illegible handwriting with clear and well thought through arguments and at the same time survived more hallway duels one-on-four than it seemed possible. 

Albus hadn't been surprised when the board of St. Aurelius had requested a recommendation when Snape applied for a honours program. He hadn't been surprised when the young man had appeared on the rooster of the College's famed Duel Team, and in a short amount of time fought his way up to become captain of the gang. He hadn't been surprised when he had been requested to read Snape's master thesis' as external examiner to enable the College to bestow the highest grades. And, if he were honest, he hadn't been surprised to find the application for the final examination by the Guild with the name of young Snape on it.

But he also hadn't been surprised when he had first heard the young man's name in another connection altogether. When Tom Riddle had fashioned himself into Voldemort and started to collect a group of followers Albus had kept an eye on the age group Snape belonged to, and it hadn't come to anyone as a surprise when the names of those who had supposedly thrown their lot in with Riddle had appeared on the secret Ministry documents. The Malfoys, Blacks and Lestranges had always had a taste for the dark, twisted and powerful. Snape belonged to their group by birth, if not by choice. He had never openly joined their ranks when they were all still in school, and while he seemed to have build a somewhat functional friendship with Lucius Malfoy from his first day in Hogwarts he had never claimed to be one of them. Keeping to himself even as a child, never requesting back-up from his fellow Slytherins Snape had been too much of an isolated figure to succumb to peer pressure. Or that had been what Albus had always believed, until the arguments for the contrary had been too strong. 

But he had never had evidence. The fact that Snape was generally disliked didn't automatically turn him into a dark wizard, after all. It made him difficult to deal with, hard to like and a sheer horror to approach, but not evil. Still it was easy to cast him in the role of the bad one, and Albus was the first to admit it. It had thrown him into a deep crisis when he hadn't even found it in himself to feel pity for the young man when he had been but a boy in torn school-robes and hysterically screeched at Albus to throw Remus Lupin into the deepest pits of Azkaban because he was a monster and had nearly killed him. 

It had taken Albus a long time to get over the fact that he simply didn't like the boy. He blamed it on the time he had first layed eyes on Snape, not even eleven years old and almost lost in too big school robes, mountains of black fabric swallowing the skinny child up. He had arrived at the Great Hall with all the other children in his year, ready to be introduced to the wonders of Hogwarts and to be sorted in the ceremony Albus never tired of watching. But when the row of first years had marched into the hall and all the children had stared in wonder at what their parents had always told them was magnificent the young boy had kept his gaze fixed to the ground. He hadn't looked up at the floating candles or the enchanted ceiling, hadn't stared at the teachers in curiosity, hadn't looked at the rich food displayed on the tables. With his small hands crammed into the pockets of his robes he had waited until it was his turn, then unceremoniously waited until the Sorting Hat announced his house and slipped into a free spot at the Slytherin table. And that had been it. He had nodded at his new fellow house mates, exchanged a glance with Lucius, who was two years older and apparently already knew the boy. But then he had sat all night staring at his plate, picking at his food, making it obvious for all the world that he would rather sit in a dark ravine at night than right here, underneath the twinkling stars of the enchanted ceiling, with the laughter and chant of the students roaring around him. 

From then on Albus had kept an eye on the child, more out of curiosity then worry, as he later came to admit to himself. Snape was obviously not equipped to deal with the sheer amount of children around him, hated the eternal noise of the crowds, the good-natured brawls, the comradeship. But unlike the first impression he had made on Albus the boy was everything but defenceless. It quickly became obvious that he had a nasty wit, using his surprising eloquence mercilessly to his favour. Aimed with what seemed like an endless amount of verbal slander and an unusual knowledge of curses and their use he quickly made it obvious that he hadn't come to Hogwarts to make friends. Within the shortest amount of time he had managed to completely isolate himself, living in the library, talking to nobody if it wasn't strictly necessary. Pairing him up for partner work in class was a nightmare, proving him wrong even worse. He seemed to read continuously, reaching top grades in classes he cared about and generally skipping those he wasn't interested in. 

Everyone knew Snape hated Hogwarts more than anything else, although the Marauders ranked very close to the castle itself. Albus lost track of the amount of times he spoke to any of the five involved parties after hallway fights in their second year. It was never really clear who started the fights, but they were a constant nuisance for Albus in all of the seven years he was unfortunate enough to teach Snape. Things took a decided turn for the worse when they all finally discovered puberty, something that took a while longer for the lanky Slytherin to happen. But when it happened nobody missed it. Returning for his sixth year Snape had not only figured out how to use his suddenly dark baritone, but also that the magic he corralled was much more powerful than he or anybody else had anticipated so far. Albus noticed it in the sudden rise of creative curses he had to dissolve in hallways, duelling suddenly looking much less like the schoolboy-brawls he was used to but more like an actual battlefield, and the ease with which Snape picked up on apparating and silent magic. By their seventh year everybody knew that Snape spent his nights sneaking around the forbidden section of the Hogwart's Library, picking up more dark magic along the lines then he already knew anyway. He had slowly turned into a veritable danger, volatile and easy to scare, and Albus kept a closer eye on him then on any other student. He never tried reaching out to him, though. There was nothing to salvage there. 

In the end Albus wasn't sure how they had all managed to survive these years, but they did. After the graduation Albus' dealing with Snape had finally been reduced to loosely follow his way up through the ranks of wizarding academia. It had seemed that he had finally found something he could apply all his unutilized resources for, and Snape had thrown himself into Alchemy with more force than anybody had anticipated, with glowing results. 

At the same time Albus had received more and more reports that Lucius Malfoy had convinced young Snape to function as a sort of sardonic sidekick to his own angelic splendour. Nobody knew anything for sure, of course. They were seen together a lot, usually enjoying the life the rich and beautiful like Malfoy could afford. Albus never ceased to wonder how a man like Severus Snape, easy to bore and insult, fit into this shallow world of brocade robes and death, but apparently he had managed to find a space for himself. 

On Albus' pages he had been a lost case. It wasn't difficult to predict that he would join Riddle's ranks very soon, becoming just one more of the silver masked henchmen doing the dirty work. It might have been a shame, yes, but then there was nobody willing to put up with Snape for too long anyway, and Albus counted himself amongst them. A sad loss of intellect, yes, but nothing more. 

With that issue solved Albus focused on a different task. Remus Lupin, the unfortunate werewolf, had been hanging in thin air ever since graduation, and it pained Albus to see it. He had come to appreciate Lupin's friendliness, his gentle spirit paired with a strong sense of justice and compassion. Ever since Albus had started to form the idea of a building a league to put some force against Riddle he had toyed with the idea of pulling Lupin in, giving him a chance the wizarding world itself would never extend to a werewolf. 

But there was one thing he needed to do that, and thus Albus Dumbledore, Alchemist, discoverer of the many uses of dragon blood, had decided to look into Wolfsbane. The impossible potion was considered to be out of limits, even for someone of Albus' capacity. But claiming that something was impossible had never done much to put Albus off-track, and he set off in a limited, tentative quest to test the waters. 

To his surprise he found that he wasn't the only one. The archives housing the important documents on the Wolfsbane, few as there were, kept immaculate records on their users, as did the libraries, and Albus could be very convincing. Within no amount of time he knew who had been there before him, sometimes only weeks ahead. Severus Snape had requested books and journals regarding anything known about Wolfsbane, had even spent days sorting through the papers belonging to the estate of Belby, the first alchemist who reportedly had tried to brew Wolfsbane and paid for that mistake with his life. Everything was still there, in perfect order, all the papers complete, but the mere fact was enough to give Albus pause. There was hardly any reason for an apprentice to dig through the records for a potion like Wolfsbane, far beyond his capacity, and far away from anything his master was working on. 

There were two options. Either Snape himself was interested in the Wolfsbane for a variety of reasons that made no sense to Albus - or Tom Riddle had finally understood whom he had recruited into his ranks and used Snape's intellect as his very own tool. Nothing would persuade the Werewolf packs running wild in the north more to join Riddle's cause than that potion, Albus was aware. What had started as a pet project had suddenly turned into a matter of life-and-death, and Albus reacted promptly - by appearing in Basilius Valentinus' garden uninvited and talking the truth out of his apprentice. 

He found Snape much more relaxed then he had ever seen him in Hogwarts. Visibly enjoying his work he was downright amicable, at least for his standards. Disapparating from Basilius' extensive grounds Albus knew that Snape had been researching the Wolfsbane indeed, but on his own terms. Tricking Snape into giving that away hadn't been easy, but there was nothing that indicated he was lying to Albus. 

It saved Albus from more sleepless nights, but it had brought up another, very interesting point. If Snape indeed was a Death Eater, why did he run his private research on things his master was probably very interested in himself? Still worrying Albus kept drawing in information, but nothing in all of the data the Ministry and his own contacts had provided Albus with pointed towards any plans Riddle could have that included Wolfsbane. Then the small incidents started to happen. There were suddenly small Death Eater attacks gone wrong, Aurors tipped off a bit too timely, blunders and holes in Riddle's plans. With his informants everywhere Albus started to collect the pieces, putting them together to form a larger picture. It wasn't difficult for him to quickly come towards a conclusion from what he had learnt. 

It seemed Snape was keeping secrets, and not only from Albus. 

It was that knowledge, cemented by extensive research on Snape's background that finally convinced Albus to form a plan. He mused over it, tossed it around in his head, worried about all possible pitfalls. There were a few holes he hadn't yet been able to cover, the biggest being the most obvious one: while he was absolutely sure of it he couldn't yet prove that Snape was, in fact, really a Death Eater. For a brief moment he considered confiding in Minerva McGonagall, his trusted friend and comrade-in-arms, but in the end he decided against it. His plan was too fault-prone anyway, and he build more than one backdoor into it, spent days honing his tactics. He had been ready just in time for the August meeting the Guild held. 

And he was going to make the first move now. The meeting had slowly dissolved, most guild members disapparating from the hall directly, the wards protecting it having been lowered for that very purpose. Albus had spoken with few old friends and colleagues here and there, and fixed a tea hour with Nicholas Flamel to talk about a few issues concerning their current project. It wasn't difficult to catch the exact moment in which Severus Snape nodded a curt goodbye to his former Master Valentinus, waiting politely just until the old man himself disapparated and then slipping out of the hall through the side door. Cheerfully, but quickly saying his goodbyes Albus followed suit, stopping for a moment to remove his lavishly decorated outer robe, shrinking it and carefully folding it so it fit into his pocket like a small handkerchief would. He had spent the entire morning choosing his muggle clothing, hoping that his white suit was appropriate for the summer weather outside.

He exited the large hall and stood in a cobblestone alley. The guild hall was located in central Oxford, looking for all the muggle world like an annex build to a large church, a workshop or vestry, who knew. Covered in spells that made anybody looking at it immediately forget about it again it had been standing there since sixhundred years, its golden sandstone blending in with the architecture around it seamlessly for those who could actually appreciate it.

Standing in the sunlight Albus looked the small alley up and down. Snape was nowhere to be seen, but Albus had an idea where he could have gone. After all he worked in Oxford and was probably only heading back to his own laboratory. Following the alley down and around the building he kept an eye open for the many alcoves the Gothic architecture of the Guild hall offered. 

He found the young man on the other side of the building, leaning in an alcove that was brightly lit by the sunshine. The golden sandstone had soaked up the heat of the sun, and Snape was draped against it as if he were enjoying the warmth, vaguely reminding Albus of a reptile bathing in the heat. He had shrugged his dark suit jacket off and tossed it over an ornamental decoration protruding from the wall next to him. With his head back against the warm sandstone he was smoking a cigarette, slowly, visibly enjoying it. It was obvious he hadn't expected anyone to come looking for him.

"Good afternoon, Master Snape."

Caught of guard Snape nearly dropped his cigarette in surprise. Albus made a mental note about the speed with which he had gone from leaning against the wall in a relaxed pose to expecting an attack, ready to defend himself from whatever may come his way. It took a moment for him to relax again, tension remaining in his set shoulders. 

"Grand Master Dumbledore. I hadn't expected you."

Formality had always been Snape's second nature, using stiff politeness like a wall he could put between him and his conversational partner. Albus arranged his face into his eternal smile. 

"Of course, my apologies for surprising you."

Snape made a handmotion as if he were accepting the apology before dropping his arm again. He had pushed himself off the wall, tall enough to look Albus straight in the eye when he stood straight. In a quick once over Albus noted that he looked tired, dark circles under his eyes betraying that he worked more than it was good for him. He was tall but gangly, with sharp cheekbones and a nose that was more of a beak and had been broken more than once alone during his time at Hogwarts, thus showing very unfortunate bumps. Otherwise he wasn't even half as ugly as Albus remembered him as a child, with his dark hair slowly growing long and his utterly unreadable eyes. The young man was never going to attract anyone keen on beauty, but it couldn't be said that he hadn't learnt how to use what he had to his advantage. The dark voice, of course, was an asset other men would have killed for, and there was no way Snape wasn't highly aware of it.

But Albus stopped the train of thought right then and there, chiding himself internally. He hadn't come to stare at his former student. There was a task at hand. The silken baritone pulling him from his thoughts did wonders for his concentration.

"What can I do for you?"

He had asked the same question when Albus had appeared in Basilius' garden and proceeded to almost interrogate him, and it was clear that Snape remembered that too well. 

"I wanted to speak to you, but I'd prefer a more private setting than this. Would you be free to visit me in Hogwarts sometime next week?"

Surprised Snape tilted his head to the side, looking at Albus with narrowed eyes. Instead of a reply he brought his still burning cigarette to his lips and inhaled the smoke. Albus decided against informing him about the guild rules which prohibited members from smoking as part of the Code of Conduct every Alchemist signed. He was confident Snape wasn't giving a damn about it anyway. 

Instead he smiled, looking directly into Snape's almost black eyes, and mentally reached out to him. It was nothing but a soft impulse of magic, testing the waters, only a hint of Legilimency. All he wanted to know was if Snape was inclined to hear him out, nothing intrusive. With invisible fingers he carefully reached out, brushing incorporal fingertips over the magical aura surrounding Snape, finding his mind amidst the swirling power. Still careful he peeled the top layer back, disturbing nothing, causing not even a ripple in the magical field. There was no wall he met, no barrier build by Occlumency. The corporal Albus continued to smile, and then the top layer slowly disintegrated and allowed him a glance at what lay beneath. 

There was nothing. It took Albus a few seconds to comprehend what he felt. There was not a single emotion visible, no thought, only emptiness. He had maybe expected to encounter Occlumency, but that was something completely different. Snape must have wiped his mind completely blank of anything, cleaning his thoughts completely of emotions and thoughts as soon as he had felt the impulse. Surprised Albus blinked, and at that very moment felt himself forcefully catapulted back. Trying to brush his surprise off his face he watched Snape exhale smoke, something that would be a smile on anybody elses' face tugging at the corner of his thin lips. 

"What makes you believe I would like to do that?"

The layers of his answer were obvious, and Albus quickly withdrew his magic. 

"How interesting." 

Snape only continued to look at him silently, not at all intimidated by the magical display Albus had just performed. He was obviously used to Legilimency, something that came rather unexpected but also confirmed what Albus had already guessed. Alchemists didn't practise Legilimency, at least none that Albus knew. Tom Riddle, on the other hand, clearly did. 

"What do you want from me?"

There was just enough coolness in Snape's voice without him sounding outright hostile. Albus continued to smile. 

"As I said, I would like to discuss that in a less public place. I do believe I have something that is worthwhile your time."

Adding just a hint of forcefulness to his own voice he watched Snape slowly raise an eyebrow, the slight amusement visible on his face taunting at best. Arrogance was something that had always been able to annoy Albus to no end, and if there was one thing Snape basically radiated it was that. 

"Yes, you said so. But let me repeat myself: why would I want to do that?"

Still smiling Albus reached out, and instead of replying softly tipped his index finger against the spot on Snape's bare left forearm where he knew Tom to brand his followers with that hideous skull-and-snake-image. It was supposed to do nothing but create confusion, especially since Albus knew from observation that Snape avoided being touched whenever possible, even going out of his way to ensure nobody would come near him without invitation. 

He hadn't expected what happened next. As soon as his fingertips connected with Snape's pale skin, cool even through he had been standing in the bright sun for a good few minutes, a jolt of strange power suddenly tingled against his own skin. Albus felt the ripple in his magic, like a small electric shock, gone as soon as it happened. 

Snape, however, almost keeled over in what looked like a sudden flash of searing pain. Dropping his cigarette and tearing his arm away from Albus' touch he took a quick step backwards and collided hard with the wall behind him. His right hand protectively wrapped around his left arm he needed a short moment to catch his breath again. He remained pressed against the wall, just out of reach for Albus, completely thrown off his guard. 

Albus was the first to recover. For a moment he considered reaching out again just to see if the same would happen again, but Snape looked to much like a cornered cat, and Albus had never found amusement in useless torture. He'd save that for another day. Instead he only took advantage of the sudden turn of events, once more smiling at the still shocked young man. 

"I believe that would be a reason. I'll send you an owl, and I am looking forward to welcome you in Hogwarts very soon."

With that he cast one last glance at Snape, nodded without intensifying his smile, and after making sure that there was no muggle in sight disapparated noiselessly. Seconds later he appeared in the Forbidden Forest, just outside the Anti-Apparation-Wards guarding Hogwarts. Inhaling the soothing scents of the forest he smoothed over the lapel of his jacket. For a moment he felt sorry for wrinkling a perfectly good white linen suit that nobody besides the not very fashionable Snape had seen that day. On the other hand the direction things where taking was most promising, and in the end that, maybe, was worth having to iron those damn linen trousers again.


	2. Sudden, simple twists

Almost exactly a week later Albus sat behind his large desk observing the papers carefully stacked to his left and right. The large clock above the mantle on the opposite wall showed him that his unwilling guest would arrive any minute now, and the visit had been a good excuse for Albus to clean up his desk. The summer was always a bit slower than term time, that was for sure, but still there were plenty of tasks at hand, and not all of them had to do with running a school. The ministry requested his help much more often these days, and the formation of the league he had come to call the Order had made leaps forward in the past days. He was confident that he had secured the loyalty of some of his very favourite friends and alumni. There was the threat of war, more and more open every day now, but it started to look as if they would be able to encounter the danger with drawn wands and the willingness to fight for the right side. 

And today he would put another knot into the net he was weaving. He could be very convincing, after all. Leaning forward he brushed a bit of dust off the far edge of his desk. There was a small part of him that was looking forward to his talk with Snape, even ignoring the fact that he already knew the outcome, that in the end he was going to get what he wanted, though some verbal sparring could become necessary. There was a tiny voice in his mind reminding him that he liked challenges, and that there hadn't been anyone who was willing to talk back to him - to Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard alive, and so on and so on - for a long time. 

In this very moment the feedback from one of the barrier spells around the castle informed him that his guest had apparated in the Forbidden Forest, in just the spot Albus' owl had indicated he was to use. The remaining magical trace of the apparition spell indicated clean work, and Albus couldn't help but chuckle. He had offered Snape a ticket for the Hogwarts Express, mentioning that the young wizard might find pleasure in spending some time in Hogsmeade prior to his return trip. The reply had been curt, only stating that he preferred to travel by other means, thankyouverymuch. The underlining message was obvious. Wizards taking trains weren't capable of apparating securely, and the mere mention had been an insult. Albus himself had a particular fondness for trains, neverminding that his skills to appear and disappear hadn't failed him once in the past decades, but it was obvious that Snape did not share that particular sentiment. 

In his preparations Albus had considered walking up to the forest himself to welcome his guest, abandoning the thought after only a short moment. The summer outside was beautiful, but he was sure that Snape still remembered the way up to the Headmaster's office. Judging from the amount of time the boy had spent in the visitor's chair being reprimanded Albus wouldn't have been surprised if Snape had told him that he could rebuilt the office from mere memory easily. It was likely, and the boy had always stared around the room and focused on the books instead of concentrating on whatever slating he received, a habit that had nearly pushed Minerva over the edge. Her petition to reintroduce physical punishment had gone unheeded during the teacher's conferences, though. 

Exactly ten minutes later a sharp knock sounded on his door, and Albus sat up a bit straighter, smiled, and pulled the door open by an invisible magical thread. 

The young man in the door didn't look impressed, and it was obvious that he hadn't bothered to dress up for the occasion of being invited into one of the spaces of power in the wizarding world. Looking as if he had apparated directly from his laboratory in Oxford Albus mused that he should probably feel honoured that Snape had deigned to at least shrug off his laboratory robe. But the well-worn dark jeans, grey t-shirt and black jacket still managed to look utterly out of place in Albus' office. Amongst the many magical trinkets and the imposing Hogwarts' architecture Snape looked as if someone had accidentally thrown a muggle onto the scene, neverminding the fact that his t-shirt bore the emblem of the School of Alchemy at St. Aurelius, two crossed wands hovering over a cauldron, and that his jacket probably held a special pocket that could hold a wand.

"Ah, welcome. I'm glad to see you could make it. Please, come in. Did you find your way easily?"

His face set into what Albus could only describe as a carefully neutral expression Snape walked into the room, his whole posture pulled up very straight, almost stiff. He settled into the chair Albus indicated for him to take, crossed his long legs and neatly folded his long fingers in his lap. 

"It was highly unlikely that the floorplan of the castle would change in a few years, so yes, I did."

Not only his face was void of any expression or emotion, but also his voice, and Albus couldn't help but feel slightly impressed. The boy had never been known to exercise self-control, but it seemed that the young man had learnt. He was a closed book, unreadable. For now. 

"Of course, after seven years here it's difficult to imagine anyone could forget. How does it feel to be back?"

The cheerfulness in Albus' voice boarded on painfully sugary, especially in combination with what Albus knew to be a blindingly lovely smile. Usually his former students were flooded with nostalgia upon returning to Hogwarts, cheerfully returning to their precious childhood memories, stories and anecdotes flowing freely. Snape only blinked. 

"I do not see the point in useless reminiscing."

The answer was deadpan, reminding Albus painfully of the examination just month ago. It was obvious that Snape was not here to be polite or make conversation, which of course was a pity - how lovely could a good chat be, swelling up and down like the sea - but then this was, technically, a business meeting. 

"Oh, but I disagree. In any case, would you like some tea? Our houseelves are very keen on traditional French patisserie with a local twist at the moment. Maybe we should sweeten our words with some chocolate."

Albus didn't even wait for the answer, and seconds later two houseleves appeared bearing trays. Soon the desk groaned under the weight of the plates and platters, teapots and delicate cups. Proudly the elves bowed and pointed out that they had used a specific type of local raspberry in the pastries, and then were gone again. Snape stared at the bowls and plates laden with pastel coloured delicacies as if someone was threatening his life. 

"Now, what type of tea would you like? Our lovely elves delivered a green tea for you, but of course you can pick anything you like. This is, let me see, ah, a Sencha. Does that agree with you?"

To Albus' surprise Snape nodded, and wordlessly reached out to first pick up and then drop the small silver ball with the tea leaves into the small teapot nearest to him. Leaning forward he held the chain connected to the tea ball in one hand, and the lid of the teapot in his other. Ostentively busying himself with his own teapot Albus watched the young man keeping the exact necessary time to achieve a proper intensity of brew from the delicate leaves, a hint of concentration on his face that suddenly made him much more approachable than the empty expression beforehand had. When the tea had reached its proper state after only a short time Snape removed the tea ball and carefully set it down on the small plate appointed for that use, replacing the lid and pouring the bright green liquid into the cup the elves had placed in front of him. Counting the time for his own Dajeeling internally with the precision and routine of the Alchemist he was Albus watched his guest handle the delicate bone china carefully, with just the right amount of diligence necessary. It reminded him of the accurateness Snape had displayed while brewing under Albus' inquisitive gaze not long ago. Tea and potions, it seemed, both required and deserved more attention than humans.

The long fingers curled around the tiny handle of the cup Snape sipped the tea, and while Albus removed the tea ball from his own pot he noticed the three already dirty bandaids on his guest's hands. He seemed to have had an unfortunate encounter with a knife or something equally sharp, and apparently hadn't cared to use medical spells, instead reverting to the age old method of plastering muggle band-aids all over his hands and then forgetting to replace them. 

Albus' examination, however, was cut short when Snape placed the cup down on the saucer again and then leant back in his chair, again folding his hands neatly.

"I assume I did not come here so you could watch me prepare tea."

After all these years it took a lot to make Albus blush, and being caught in the act of staring wasn't going to be enough. Calmly he added a bit of lemon and a good two spoons of sugar to his tea, and with a glance directed the small spoon to stir the cup while he focused on Snape again. 

"Indeed, though I do enjoy sharing a good cup of tea with a friend. Alas, today we have other reasons for our meeting, though I do hope this will change in the future."

Fascinated Albus watched Snape's eyebrow shoot up at the mention of the word 'friend' before his face settled into its expression of neutrality again. This was going to be very interesting, indeed, and Albus wondered whether he would have enough time to indulge himself a bit by teasing Snape to find the little cracks in his armour.

Albus' pause grew a bit more lengthy then he had planned, but Snape didn't pick up on the offered thread of conversation. It seemed that the young man could not only stand silence, but even had no qualms to prolong it. 

"Before we begin I would like to ensure you that this is a safe space, and that what we are going to talk about is going to remain confidential. I do hope that goes for both parties."

Again Snape's mask of neutrality slipped slightly, with a quirk of the corner of his mouth indicating that he was indeed getting curious - or worried, Albus was unsure. Still leaning back the young man released his hands and folded his arms in front of his chest. 

"Silence is a virtue indeed. Why am I here?"

The small spoon in Albus' cup stopped its circles, lifted from the cup again and carefully desposited itself on the saucer. Picking up his own cup Albus sipped the now sweet tea, savoured the soft taste of the Dajeeling and then placed it down. Looking up at the young man again he placed his elbows on his desk, smile still fixed on his face. No small-talk, then. He wasn't surprised. 

"I am, ah, let me call it curious."

Snape nodded. 

"Not for the first time. I found it slightly unnerving to find you tracking my moves in the recent past. I thought you were satisfied after we spoke about the Wolfsbane potion, but it seems that your inquisitiveness has only increased."

The realisation settled in very slowly, and Albus allowed his smile to grow to cover his surprise. It was true that he had poked around a bit, pulling strings here and there, uncovering bits and pieces about Snape's past and present circumstances, neverminding the Wolfsbane incident. It seems that he hadn't been as stealthy as he himself had thought. Or that someone had warned Snape.

"As I said, I was curious. How did you know?"

Cards on the table, then. This was going to be very interesting. 

"I have my ways, and no intention to enlighten you about them. All I wish to know, at this point, is why you have chosen to observe my comings and goings in the most disrespectful way."

Albus couldn't help but be impressed. He had mapped out their conversation thinking he had the slight advantage over Snape in knowing exactly what they were talking about, but it seemed that the young man himself was utterly aware of Albus' intentions, and willing to actually put up more than one line of defence. 

"My apologies if my small inquiries seem disrespectful to you, as that was certainly not my intention. But it seems you already know that I am most interested in your specific case."

Unfolding his arms Snape leant forward a bit, one hand on his knee, and reached out for the tea cup. When his fingertips were only centimetres away from the small cup it moved obediently into his hand, and he leant back again to sip the fine tea, ostensibly enjoying the good quality Albus was proud to offer his guests. Watching the whole process Albus understood the message, the small answer to his own casual display of magical ability, just a hint at the fact that Snape, unlike a lot of others, was not impressed by what he had seen so far. 

Done with the tea he carefully replaced the cup, this time staying slightly forward in his chair, back perfectly straight. 

"My specific case?"

It surprised Albus how Snape, one of the most impatient wizards he had ever met, didn't seem to mind keeping the pace of their conversation slow, almost dragging. 

"Of course. You are in a very interesting position right now."

The young man cast a glance at the bandaids on his hands before looking up, now seeming slightly bored all of a sudden. 

"Am I here to talk about my current work? Because if that was what you wanted you could have attended one of the monthly colloquium at St. Aurelius. They are generally open to the professional circles, which you are well aware of considering you are the current Grand Master of the Guild."

Albus nodded, and pointed to Snape's hands. 

"Of course, I used to enjoy these occasions very much. Alas, these days, with running the school I find myself without the time to attend. No, I wanted to speak about something quite different. But first, as I see your injuries - may I offer you a healing spell or two?"

He hadn't even intended it, but he had found one of the first larger openings in the armour of neutrality Snape wore so annoyingly. The young man immediately leant back, drawing his hands from his knees and folding his arms in front of his chest, his injured hand now hidden from Albus' eyes. 

"That won't be necessary, thank you."

Still smiling Albus picked up his teacup again and put just enough worry into his voice to not sound like an old spinster aunt.

"Why didn't you perform a few easy healing spells yourself instead of using mundane bandaids? They look terrible, you should make sure that you won't catch an infection."

Interestingly the honest concern was enough to disturb Snape's facade further. It seemed that he tried to hide his hands even more in an involuntary motion that he corrected as soon as he became aware of it, and Albus started to wonder if the harsh reaction his touch had drawn from Snape was all pain and not also a simple recoil from any touch. 

"Is that what we are discussing now, whether I use healing spells in a laboratory that is already highly charged with magical potency? The answer should be obvious, but I do not have time for these idle chats. Please come to your point, there is a lot of work waiting for me in St. Aurelius."

Albus had an inkling that healing spells were probably not the type of magic that Snape was any good at and that this was the simple reason for the bandaids, but he kept the knowledge to himself. Instead he nodded, spread his hands in what he thought was a reassuring fashion, and leant back in his own chair. 

"My apologies for taking away from your time, Master Snape. Now, then, I do have a reason why I invited you here, as you may have already guessed. I want to ask you a simple question - no, let me correct that, actually I have two questions."

Obviously satisfied that Albus was coming to his point and pleased to be called by his proper academic title - or at least the abbreviated version of it - Snape nodded curtly. Albus dropped his hands into his lap and tried not to look too happy. Instead he modelled his face into a more serious version of a friendly expression, hinting at authority and power, and made sure to keep eyecontact with Snape without extending any magical impulses.

"When did you become a Death Eater?"

He had hoped for a reaction, a flinch, anything. But Snape remained unmoving, even daring to keep the eyecontact steady. Albus wondered whether he was internally pulling up defences again any work of Legilimency, but he had no chance to check without destroying whatever common ground they had already found.

"What makes you believe I would be one?"

He was prepared, just as Albus had expected it.

"I think we have already established that."

Snape tilted his head to the side, blinking, the surprise in his face looking almost real. 

"Have we? Please remind me of the exact moment, for I do not remember."

Gesturing in his direction Albus nodded. 

"Would you like me repeat my actions?"

Straightening his body again Snape almost growled. 

"No. Whatever spell you choose, I wish not to be subjected to it again."

So it had been pain, mostly at least. 

"It was no spell, and I must admit I had not anticipated the outcome. I would like to analyse that further, but it seems I need your help for that, too, and I remain unsure whether you are willing to cooperate with me."

The dark look on Snape's face remained, and for the first time Albus was reminded of the stubborn child he had to deal with so many time. It wasn't the most glorious memory, if he was honest. 

"Why should I cooperate with you, Master Dumbledore? We have no shared objectives, neither in our lines of work nor elsewhere."

Albus used the now slightly charged atmosphere to pick one of the pastel coloured pastries and top his own mug with the soft Dajeeling. Replacing the teapot he looked up at Snape, now sensing how the deflective movements finally started to bother the young man. It would have be interesting to draw these evasive manoeuvres out a bit, simply to see how good Snape's self-control, and most importantly, how solid his grip on his magic actually was. He seemed to be confident in his abilities and decidedly did not lack control, but strong emotions could draw unsolicited outbursts of power from almost any wizard. For the task Albus had at hand it would be interesting to see whether Snape fell into that category or not, if he could operate with a certain amount of stealth, cover not only his tracks but also his power. For now it seemed that the young man was excellent at pulling up a facade, but Albus hadn't pushed him until the breaking-point yet. 

"Ah, but I believe we do. Have a pastry, the raspberries are indeed wonderful at this time of the year."

Not to Albus' surprise Snape ignored the offer completely. 

"I wish to concentrate on my work, and that's all. We have nothing in common."

Savouring the crunchy, buttery pastry in combination with slight tartness from the fresh fruit Albus sighed. Finishing his bite and brushing a few crumbs out of his beard he chased the sugary goodness with a sip of tea before fixing his gaze on the young man again. 

"We have more in common than you think. Foremost, currently, that we both want to stop the madness Tom Riddle is devising."

Snape was only silent for a second, showing no breach in his collected facade, but Albus thought he could feel the tension in the magical atmosphere. He was thoroughly impressed by the stoic conduct the young man had displayed so far, but it was not going to help him, not when Albus was able to feel every single twitch in the magical field surrounding them. It would take a capable man years of practise with cloaking spells to hide his emotions from a sensitive and powerful magical being like Albus, and Snape was simply far too young and too inexperienced. Otherwise his control remained remarkable, enough to fool any ordinary wizard easily.

"I do not know what you are talking about."

Abandoning his pastry for a longer monologue - but not without giving it a longing look - Albus smiled again.

"You perfectly well do. I was convinced you were nothing but one of his idiotic followers - forgive my choice of language, please - until I discovered that you've been very carefully picking your way through the entire scenario. The Wolfsbane was the first pointer into that direction, really, but I found more. Why did you look into this, if it can't be useful to your career at this point? Tom did not order you to do so, I am very sure of that. Why did the last three times Tom tried to infiltrate the Ministry fail after, somehow, someone made spectacular blunders and the whole scheme blew up? Had he been handed falsified Intel? Someone has been sabotaging Riddle in small and very careful ways, almost delicately, and it is someone from the inside."

Snape listened carefully, his arms still crossed in front of his chest, his face only darkening marginally when Albus mentioned the last incident on his long list of things he suspected the young man to somehow have orchestrated.

"What an interesting reasoning. But why would you suspect me?"

For a brief moment Albus wondered what would happen if he sent out a small magical impulse again, just to understand how Snape felt and how likely he was to yield. But the memory of what had happened after the meeting was rather fresh, and even though Albus had wished for the young man to be slightly less sensitive to Legilimency there was no helping it now. How unfortunate, though. Things could have been so much easier.

"Because you are currently stuck in a position you don't want to be in, and you are looking for a way out. Since you were branded with the Dark Mark there is not much you can do, but there are small ways you can make Riddle's life more difficult, and you are using your opportunities wisely. I don't know how you fell for Riddle in the first place, though I do have my theories, but you are too intelligent to stay. But there is not much room for you to operate like this for longer, especially not entirely on your own. Alone you will not accomplish anything."

For a brief moment Snape looked amused. 

"It seems I should thank you for the compliment. Now, if I follow your completely ridiculous line of thought further - let's imagine you were right, what would you want me to do?"

Albus felt immediate satisfaction they had come so far, and leant slightly forward. 

"I would offer you a chance to work for and with a league that has been formed to fight off Riddle's attempts to rise to power."

Rising an eyebrow Snape suddenly seemed interested, and Albus felt almost pity that he would have to wipe the young man's mind afterwards, no matter the outcome. 

"A league that has been formed? So the rumours are true."

Apparently Albus wasn't the only one who could run inquiries about his conversational partners. He hadn't expected the news of the forming of the Order leak so quickly, but it was obvious they had, and even into the circles Snape ran in. That wasn't exactly what he had wanted to hear, but he pushed the knowledge to the back of his mind to deal with it later. 

"They are. Let's return to the question - if you were a Death Eater keen on a way out, and I would make that offer, what would you say?"

Smiling intensely Albus looked Snape straight into the eyes again, but found nothing he could make any sense of. Then Snape blinked. 

"I would say no."

That took Albus by surprise. 

"You wouldn't work with me?"

For a moment Snape loosened his crossed arms and brushed the long sleeve of his jacket back to look at his wristwatch. Then he looked up again. 

"Naturally. What makes you believe a man like me would work for a league infested with a lot of people I have no wish to ever see again for a goal I do not share nor could benefit from?"

At least he now knew that the boy hadn't changed that much, which wasn't as much of a relief as Albus had thought. 

"Is your own benefit always the one thing you consider when acting?"

For the first time that day Snape smiled at him, almost friendly, and then nodded. 

"I am glad you came to understand that."

Sighing Albus leant back. He hadn't wanted to go there, at least not that quickly, but it seemed like he would need to pull a few more strings. Placing his elbows on the armrests of his chair he stapled his fingertips, and glanced at Snape again. 

"Then let me give you an incentive to work for your own benefit."

With the smile gone from Snape's face he still looked strangely amused, and Albus saw no need in stretch the pause longer.

"I have proof that you are working for Tom Riddle, and if you refuse to cooperate with me I will, personally, hand you over to the ministry for trial and a very long time in Azkaban." 

He put enough emphasis on the last few words to make sure Snape knew exactly what he meant, and waited for an answer.


	3. Go on and take that chance

He waited, a few seconds passing, carefully scrutinizing Snape. He knew exactly what he was looking for - the small things that could show surprise, the first crack in the thick walls of arrogance and boredom surrounding the young man. A direct threat wasn't something he could have expected, not at this point in the conversation and without any preamble. 

But all that happened was that Snape blinked twice, slowly, and then delivered his answer without even flinching. 

"Well, if you must."

That wasn't even close to what Albus had been expecting, and it took all the experience of years negotiating in difficult situations for him to keep his surprise safely tucked away. 

"That is your final answer?"

Snape only sighed, still not looking impressed. A slight hint of displeasure and slow loss of patience was the only outward change in his demeanour.

"I wasn't under the impression that you suffer from any hearing difficulties."

Brushing away the slight provocation Albus infused his voice with a bit more authority - not too much, just a hint to ensure his conversational partner that he indeed meant what he had threatened. 

"Oh, indeed I do not. But be so kind and explain yourself, will you?"

It wasn't quite a request, but Snape seemed to understand that he needed to become more generous with his words if he wanted to solve the situation and deigned to follow the order. 

"A very basic probabilistic evaluation shows that to any accusation there are two possible outcomes, as a court can only find two different verdicts. A defendant can be guilty or not guilty, each at a fifty percent chance if we stay in the realm of mathematics."

He paused, eyebrow slightly raised to indicate that he wasn't in the habit of explaining himself and was doing Albus a favour he wouldn't usually bestow on his conversational partners. Albus nodded curtly, edging him on. And he continued. 

"So, at fifty per cent chance the verdict not guilty is found and generally does not result in a very long time in Azkaban, as you put it so eloquently. There would be nothing to worry there, would you not agree? That leaves us with the second option, being found guilty with all its consequences. But even that would not lead to the scenario you propose."

Listening to the slowly dragged out explanation in the calm and almost emotionless matter-of-fact voice Snape used reminded Albus painfully of the examination he had just recently conducted, and it wasn't a memory he was too keen on revisiting. But he knew better than to interrupt, having seen any rhetorical cheat under the sun. Patience was a virtue, and Albus had mastered it a very long time ago. So he only interjected where it was obvious that Snape wanted the nudge of a follow-up question, keeping his voice soft and open. 

"Why would that be so?"

Now there was a hint of a smile on the young man's thin lips, indicating that they had arrived at a point he had been looking forward to make. 

"Because current court records show that the Great Wizengamot has a history of rendering harsh sentences in such cases as you propose this one to be. Death sentences tend to be enforced within a very short amount of time, leaving the culprit in Azkaban for less than five days in average before the execution."

There was no emotion besides a hint of dogmatism visible, and beyond the hint of annoyance that his task was delayed by unforeseen consequences something inside Albus wasn't pleased with the direction this was taking. There was something beyond the mere fact that Snape discussed court verdicts in cases of multiple murders as if they were mathematical equations and nothing more - no moral, no ethics, no need for proof. Being guilty or not was reduced to the mere throw of a dice, and whichever side showed was nothing but a thing of probabilistic luck.

"I don't see how a death sentence would be preferable to being looked up for a very long time." 

He wasn't being honest, because he knew exactly what Snape meant. He wasn't naive enough to believe that any type of life could be better than death, and he had seen Azkaban. But he needed to push on, move the conversation carefully now, making only a small mental note that apparently Snape had been following legal developments closely and turned newspaper reports into statistics. It wasn't a piece of information he could use immediately, but he was sure that was a moment to come when everything would be useful, and when they would have time to include a lenghtly lecture on ethics and moral responsibilitiy. But for now both had to wait. 

"So the great Albus Dumbledore fears death?"

He hadn't expected the smugness, but there was no time to be annoyed. 

"Of course, every living creature does. It's a primordial instinct, in all of us."

But Snape only snorted. "Sentimentality. Death means oblivion, why be afraid of that? There is no point in fearing what eventually will befall you."

It seemed like something a bratty teenager would say, but Albus remembered the frightened boy in his office all those years ago, the boy who had almost died and been scared beyond measure in the process. He also remembered not offering the slightest in respect of comfort, only harsh words and threats to keep silence. He had never been proud of his treatment of the incident, but back then he had to make quick decision. Weighting Lupin against Snape he had decided once, and it wasn't without a small pang of guilt that he realised that he would make the same decision again, should it ever become necessary. Back then he had thought that he had managed to masquerade it as a consequence of working for the greater good. There was one students' pride against the welfare of at least three others, and these things needed to be weighted carefully. Of course it had worked splendidly, everybody involved applauding his foresight and prudence and then enforcing the ban of silence. It had never occurred to him that Snape had looked right through the scheme even as a young student. 

The realisation gave their current conversation a new depth, essentially forbidding Albus to read it as a mere theoretical game. There was no possibility that Snape had not understood the threat to be an actual real one, not with the firm knowledge that Albus had already once given up on him easily and without remorse. There was no bluff behind the pokerfaced explanation. Snape meant what he said, word for word, and Albus had never met a person as young as this not batting an eye at what was positively a threat of gruesome death.

"That is how much your own life matters to you?"

Nodding as if finally being relieved that Albus had gotten the point Snape agreed. 

"I see we have come to an understanding." 

The slight chime of one of Albus' many clocks interrupted him, and Snape stayed silent until the bell stayed silent again. Then he nodded. 

"Time is passing, and there is work. If that is all I will take my leave."

Without waiting for Albus' he pushed his chair back and rose. Out of habit Albus followed his example, know that there was no chance to keep his guest around any longer. Unwilling as he was, he had to acknowledge that his former strategy was not going to work. If Akzakan wasn't a threat he'd have to redefine his plan of attack. If death wasn't enough of an incentive he'd need to find something else that would work, but not tonight. Things needed time.

"I shall not hold you back, although I must admit I'd rather continue our conversation. But it is late, and I assume you will work in the laboratory tonight?"

Nodding Snape confirmed, standing stiffly in front of the desk. 

"Well, then." Albus smiled, using the short second Snape stood still to unfold his magic and casting a silent Oblivate. There was no point in using much force, he didn't need to wipe their entire conversation from the young man's mind. It was just enough to scratch out the memory of what Albus had told him about the league, while still leaving him with a blurred idea of what they had spoken about. 

The spell was soft and aimed to feel as non-intrusive as possible, but the impact was enough to make Snape flinch back. He blinked once and it was over, and Albus was clever enough to take the memory of the Oblivate itself off Snape's mind when he pulled back again.

"Have a safe return to Oxford. I believe we shall continue our interesting discussion at some later time."

Albus smiled at the three seconds of confusion the Oblivate had left the young man with. He was obviously disoriented for a moment, but managed to cover it up at surprising speed. It would take him a while longer to understand what had just happened, and even though Albus knew it wouldn't make their future conversations any easier some things simply had to happen. Albus had people to protect, after all, and Snape was not one of them. The door closed silently behind him, and Albus listened to the sounds of the rotating staircase carrying him down and out of reach.

Evening fell swiftly with Albus sorting through his papers and his mind. His plan had only left him with a few uncomfortable realisations instead of a proper success, and he could not keep himself from pondering whether the advance might have been too hastily arranged. He should have waited, maybe, used more time getting to know Snape instead of simply plunging both of them into a rhetorical stand-off that had to fall through eventually. Now Snape knew that Albus wanted something, and if he realised that an Oblivate had been used he also knew that Albus was keeping secrets. Sometimes that alone was dangerous knowledge, and hours later over a cold cup of tea Albus mused whether he should have pushed harder, or taken more away with his spell. It had been tempting, he admitted it. There had been no resistance to his intrusion, only the small flinch that in itself was remarkable. Albus' magic wasn't a battleaxe but a fine scalpel, and most people he had been forced to free from difficult knowledge hadn't noticed a thing. He hadn't known that Snape was that sensitive to magic, no matter how subtle. It was interesting knowledge, but it wasn't going to make things easier at all.

The sudden flare of the fire in the fireplace pushed him away from the depth of his thoughts into real life. He felt the pull from the connection and recognized the Minister of Magic's very private signature, a strong call urging him to reply. With a sigh he placed his cold teacup back on the saucer, and rose from the desk. The connection opened without any further effort, and the head of the Minister appeared in the flames just as Albus arrived in front of the fireplace. 

"Headmaster Dumbledore, it is good that I could reach you."

Nodding Albus brushed a hand through his beard, hoping there weren't any crumbs left. He was always dressed for business, but he hadn't expected a call this night. And especially not a call like this, from the very head of government, and with the urgency the pressed voice of the minister exhibited. 

"What can I do for you?"

The minister shook his head, the image bobbing in the flames. 

"It is merely information that I want you to have before it reaches the public and the press so you can - well. And it also falls under your authority, to a certain degree."

Leaning slightly forward Albus motioned for the minister to continue. It didn't sound good, not at all. 

"There has been another attack. This time on a single individual, although the entire property was destroyed. We were alerted far too late, but Aurors are on scene now doing damage control. Local muggle population has been taken care off, but it becomes more and more difficult to hide the green light markings they use."

He wasn't sure what else he had expected, not when it seemed that these days every catastrophe came straight from the twisted mind of Tom Riddle.

"So Riddle's followers attacked someone? Was he involved himself? And what about the victim?"

And why was the minister immediately contacting him? Albus had his resources in the ministry, of course, but usually information got to him with a slight delay. He wasn't complaining about the sudden intimacy, of course, but he still wasn't sure if he desired it for future incidents as well. 

"Yes, yes, absolutely Riddle and his followers. Listen, we don't know much at the moment, there's too much damage. And the victim, that's why I am calling you, not in your function as the Headmaster of Hogwarts, but because you are holding the post of the Grand Master of the Guild of Potionsmasters and Alchemists."

Now that was decidedly bad news. It took him only seconds to scroll through a list of possible targets Tom could find within the ranks of the guild, and he could easily think of a few. His heart sank at the idea that Tom had finally figured out that Nicholas had almost created the stone, the damned stone - 

"Who was targeted?"

The minister nodded at the obvious urgency in Albus' voice. 

"Basilius Valentinus. He was killed, his property obliterated. Aurors on the scene are trying to secure the crime scene, but pretty much everything is burnt. Muggles from the nearest village alerted their authorities to a series of explosions and green lights in the sky, but we managed to get there first. It was quite a job to clear the confusion amongst muggle authorities, but now there will be reports of an exploded warehouse complex used to store illegal fireworks. An arrest has already been made. I will keep you informed. The Guild will receive official notification of the death tomorrow. I wanted to inform you so can start appropriate proceedings in advance."

For a split second Albus was thankful to not hear Nicholas' name coming from the flames. Then the realisation hit him, and he listened to the flurry of explanations the minister bestowed on him through the flames with only half an ear. When the connection closed and he returned to his desk it took a moment before reality finally pushed through the rearranging of his current position. 

Another victim in this war, and this time a high profile one. There were going to be discussions about this, articles in the press. Nobody had liked Valentinus, but that didn't quite make anybody harbour murderous thoughts. People would be sorry, or at least pretend to be. The Guilt would hold a remembrance ceremony and a funeral, burying Valentinus, or what was going to be left of him, at a place of his choice. There was probably a will, somewhere. There were rules concerning the death of a potionsmaster, regulations on who took over what - the library, the books, the house, and it was the job of the Guild to make sure things would happen according to tradition. It was the last apprentice a master had trained that took over responsibilities, and usually he or she was the one to continue the tradition, to take over the house and make good use of a properly kept garden and laboratory. Basilius Valentinus had been very keen on their traditions, and Albus was fairly certain that his death would mean that his last apprentice would inherit everything. It would also mean that there was only one logical suspect in a sudden death like this, and Albus knew exactly whom Aurors had arrested in an Oxford laboratory earlier this evening for the murder of Valentinus.

Fate had its twist and turns, destroying the best laid schemes to the left and the right. Sitting back in his chair Albus pondered the movement of the flames in the fireplace, now devoid of any floating heads, and wondered if Snape had imagined that he would get to experience the inside of Azkaban that quickly. But it would do wonders to further Albus' plan. Darkness and fear would work their ways as they had done a hundred times before. Azkaban had shattered stronger men in shorter time, and Albus was looking forward to see how Snape would walk out of that particular trial by fire. And from then on things would need only a little bit of pushing, just a small amount of intrigue. Oh, how easy it would be now.

It was the first time that Tom's perversions had played into Albus' hands, actively furthering his own plans, and the implication of all of it continued to overshadow the whole evening, even when Albus' raised a glass of whiskey to his dead colleague. But he felt no remorse. It was war, after all, and they all had no business being squeamish. Death, as Snape had so aptly put it, would befall all of them in the end, and there was no point in being sentimental about it.


	4. Hard times

Albus waited for five days. A week was the usual time the Ministry kept suspects in investigative custody, giving them exactly seven days to prove their innocence before a time for the trial would be set. Five days seemed like a good amount of time to give Snape some incentive to think about his wrongdoings, to just get a taste of what consequences there might be in store for him. 

The news had stirred up confusion, but the headlines had been kept in check by some clever policing and a calculated retention of information on the side of the Ministry. Nobody cared too much about the death of a secluded eremit-alchemist as Valentinus had been per se. It was a nice scandal to have his own apprentice in prison under suspicion of having betrayed him, but Snape didn't make for a photogenic suspect, and everybody had already heard about his bad character. The Guild was mildly annoyed by the whole trouble, preferring to solve its problems without interference from the press or any curious public. There had been an unofficial meeting of the oldest members of the Guild, a small circle of which Valentinus had been a member without ever attending. Meddling old fools he had called them, a moniker Albus would absolutely subscribe to. 

Hardly anybody believed that Tom Riddle might have had anything to do with Valentinus' death. The story of the careless scientist was too common and obvious - a bad calculation, a cauldron too full or too hot, highly volatile concoctions, all of these were perfectly reasonable chances to blow up an entire village and not just the house. Of course Valentinus was dead, but he surely wasn't the first alchemist to go up with his work. Belby had died that way, and surely it could happen again. There were rumours, but they weren't encouraged. Riddle wasn't prolific enough to keep the public on its toes. 

But Albus knew the truth, having heard and read every report the Ministry had produced on the issue, having attended many meetings with the Minister and having seen the scene of the crime with his own eyes. There was no question that it had been Riddle who had killed Valentinus, blown up the house and vanished again. Albus had seen the drawing one of the first responding Aurors had made of the floating mark to know that there was no room for doubt. But there was one question that neither he nor the Ministry could find an answer to. Nobody knew why Tom Riddle had decided to kill the old alchemist, to track him down in his own house and then blow up any possible trace of what had happened. The fire had consumed all, burnt the evidence and the library, the laboratory and the living areas. Everything was gone. 

But there was an answer to every question on this planet, and there was always a person who knew it. That alone would have been enough reason for Albus to get Snape out of Azkaban again, neverminding the fact that he of course knew that Snape could not have been the murderer. He had been with Albus, and there was only a very slim chance that he had orchestrated the murder from afar. And even if there were ways to find that out, and Albus' plan had been set in stone almost as soon as he had heard the news. 

On the fifth day he contacted the Ministry. All five days long he had waited for them to call on him and request that he confirmed the alibi Snape must have surely provided during questioning. He had heard that there had already been someone vouching for him for the hours after he had returned from Albus' office, stating under oath that Snape had been in their shared laboratory in St. Aurelius in Oxford, and that there had simply been no moment in which he could have killed Valentinus during that night. But the hours before that were unclear, and it would have been the logical thing for Snape to tell the truth - that he had been with the best possible person to be with to make his claim irrefutable, in the safest space the wizarding world provided. It was failsafe, curseproof. But he hadn't done it. 

Sadly Albus had no room in his plans for any suicidal thoughts Snape could entertain. He needed the man, and if it was just for a few more years. What he did afterwards was his business, but right now he had a job to do, and Albus had to make sure he would finally grasp the weight of the situation. So he appeared in the Ministry, stated under oath that Snape had been with him in the relevant hours, and requested a special favour from the Ministry that was quickly granted. The day afterwards the newspapers reported that Snape had been declared innocent, wrongly accused of a terrible deed he had not committed. 

It was already afternoon when Albus apparated on a windy spot right opposite the entrance to the most famous prison the wizarding world had. It was beastly cold, wind pulling on his robes and beard with strong fingers, waves drumming endlessly against the black rock. Above him he could hear the gulls screaming their endless mocking song while circling the prison, free to fly away and yet staying. It was against protocol to pick up released prisoners right in front of the gates, but Albus needed the element of surprise and the entrapment the situation provided. And he didn't mind looking at Azkaban, unless most of the wizarding elite that tended to ignore what exactly they were doing to people who had breached the social contract of the magical world. Azkaban always reminded Albus that the line between being a hero wearing the Order of Merlin and a criminal slowly withering away in a cell was razor-thin, that sometimes it was mere luck to fall on the right side of the divide. So far fortune had favoured him. He just wished he had more time to pray to her that she would continue her favourable treatment. 

He was only minutes early, and the cold wind hadn't managed to do more than send slight shivers down his spine when the large gates suddenly opened. They revealed three figures, two of them Aurors wearing the robes of the Azkaban Guard. The third was taller, stick thin and looking very gloomy. A deep frown etched into his now positively gaunt looking features Snape followed the direction one of the Aurors was pointing with his eyes, and if it was even possible his expression darkened when he realised who was waiting for him.

"There is your welcoming committee, go."

The guard made a harsh motion, obviously no too enthusiastic about the strange situation he was suddenly in. Usually prisoners were delivered to the Ministry to be released, not picked up at the very doors. And not by people like Albus. 

Snape took a careful step forward, and as soon as he was out of the range of the doors the heavy gate swung shut again. The sound of the many locks closing the gates behind him made him flinch, and he made no effort to hide it. He moved again only when the door was firmly shut behind him, waves clashing against rock and seagulls screaming the only noise. Giving him a good once-over Albus realised that his new charge wasn't going to make much of a fuss today, at least not judging from his appearance. He was still dressed in the same t-shirt and trousers he had worn when Albus had seen him for the last time, confirming what Albus already knew - that he had been arrested straight after his return to Oxford. His clothing was suspiciously clean, just like his personal appearance, indicating that the guards had taken care to get his outward appearance into an acceptable state before delivering him to Albus. But still the signs that the past five days had taken their toll on him were too visible. He was too thin to cope with five days without proper sustenation without looking half-starved immediately, and the unnatural paleness of his skin only helped to emphasise the dark circles under his eyes. Wearing only a t-shirt in the continuous cold of Azkaban must have been deadly, and in the cruel wind it was obvious that Snape was cold to the bone, shivering slightly. But his posture was painfully straight, shoulders stiff and pulled back. He kept his hands clutched behind his back, just out of sight.

"What a surprise."

His voice, however, was dry and calm as always. There was a hint of tiredness in it and a distinct coarseness indicating that he would be sick soon with fever if he wasn't already. For a moment Albus felt a hint of compassion, especially taking into calculation what he was about to do. Then he pushed the feeling aside. They didn't have time for such things. 

"I am glad I could make it one. You will come with me."

He didn't wait for any reply that could have only been negative anyway. Without waiting or asking for permission he reached out, took hold of Snape's bony shoulder, and the power of his magic whisked both of them away. 

They materialised on a path leading up to a forest. The change of scenery was impressive, the harsh wind and screaming gulls suddenly replaced by the softly whispering trees and the lush colours of the countryside. The ground underneath their feet was soft, and the sky above them bright and dotted with white clouds in the warm light of the afternoon. The trees were less fragrant now than they had been in summer, and the smell of burnt wood drifted towards them from a place just outside of their view with every movement of the wind.

Drawing in a sharp breath Snape stumbled out of Albus' hold as soon as they had firmly arrived. He needed a moment to regain his footing on the suddenly uneven ground of the dirt track they were on, staggering backwards and turning around. He had turned slightly green, and Albus expected him to be sick behind a bush any minute. But he caught himself, needing only a few deep breath to recover his composure. 

When he turned around again his focus had completely returned, cool gaze fixed on Albus. 

"By wizarding law I am a free person, and as such I demand my possessions back."

Albus was impressed by the speed with which Snape recovered, still capable of keeping the focus on the important issues beside the fact that he must be completely at a loss where he was and had almost no control of his current situation. 

"As you have correctly guessed the Ministry handed me your wand. You have my word that it will be returned to you in a short moment."

But Snape didn't give a damn about Albus' promises. 

"No. You are not entitled to hold it, and I request it back now."

Crossing his arms in front of his chest he stared Albus down, determination visible in every inch of him. But Albus wasn't going to yield. 

"You will receive it, but in a minute. And now follow me."

Turning around he lead the way around the corner, wondering whether Snape had really not yet realised where they were or if he had just pushed his emotions so far down that he could ignore what was about to happen.

"You are breaking the law!"

Turning around Albus regretted having to be so candid already, but if the situation requested it he was not going to shy away from the truth. 

"Have you so far been under the impression that I would be particularly squeamish about that?"

He kept his voice soft and inviting, but his reply still managed to bewilder Snape, who was too tired to conceal his surprise and simply stared back and had no reply at the ready, possibly for the first time since Albus had decided to open negotiations with him. 

"It's good we managed to clear that up. Now follow me."

Without waiting for a reply he turned around and walked onwards, and the rustling steps on the path indicated that this time Snape obeyed. They walked the path in silence, just for a few meters before they turned a corner. The smell of burnt wood became stronger, now mixed with sulphur and countless other substances. There was no way that Snape had not realised where they were a long time ago, but it was only at the exact moment when they rounded the corner and finally had a clear view of the remains that he stopped dead in his tracks, recoiling as if he had walked into an invisible wall. Turning around Albus saw him frozen in place, shock clearly visible on his thin face. 

His eyes were fixed on the ruins of the property in front of them. Situated on the edge of the forest, just on top of a gently sloping hill lay the burnt skeleton of what had been a stately house not long ago, black beams that used to support the construction reaching into the sky like burnt fingers. The roof had caved in under the heat of the fire ravaging everything, fed by explosive substances and countless volumes of what had been an extensive library. The outer walls still stood in some places and had been blown apart by explosions in others. Debris was everywhere, littering the remains of the garden that had been destroyed by a raging power unleashing anger all over the formerly well-arranged property. Smoke was still rising from areas here and there, even after five days and a few efforts to quench all the fire. But there was too much dry wood and paper to feed it, and finally the Aurors had ceased their efforts and simply cast a strong spell around the area that prevented any fires to spread into the forest. Nobody was supposed to be inside the circle drawn around the house, but Albus had pulled a few strings and there were no Aurors in sight. 

There could have been an entire army of Aurors and Snape would not have noticed. He stood fixed in place, simply staring as if he could not comprehend what he was seeing. 

"Obviously it's a scene of an ongoing crime investigation, so we should be careful."

But Albus could have spoken to a tree for all impact his words made. It took a long while until Snape moved, but when he did he was pulled towards the house as if moved on strings. There was nothing for Albus to do but to follow and observe. Together they walked up to the former entrance, past the gate to what used to be the front garden and was now essentially burnt grass covered with fallen detritus from the upper levels of the house. The stench of smoke was still pungent in the air, but while Albus found it decidedly unpleasant Snape didn't seem to feel it. Moving like a man walking in his sleep he crossed the path towards what used to be the front door, and without hesitating walked through the now empty doorframe that was still standing.

"The structure is instable, you should not venture far."

But Snape did not reply. Albus could hear his heavy boots trod over broken wood and burnt debris, the sound of smaller pieces of burnt wood falling down. He knew that there was no space to move inside the house, that the structure had completely collapsed into itself. Snape couldn't go far, barely beyond what had been the large central entrance hall with the creaky staircase leading up to the more private area, to the large library where Aurors assumed Valentinus' body must have been when the house had been blown up. They hadn't recovered much of it, only pieces of bone scattered amongst torn and blackened books. They were what the Guild had decided to put into the coffin they were set to bury in a few days, remains of a studious life and a mysterious death. 

There was no point in waiting for Snape in front of the house, not when he was possibly taking longer crawling through the debris. Not when Albus kept his wand as a security, making sure that he wasn't going to suddenly disappear without a warning. So Albus walked around the remains of the building into the back garden. He wasn't sure what pained him more, the burnt ruin or the destroyed plant life behind it. Valentinus had kept his large garden in excellent shape, had nourished and cared for an impressive number of rare plants and herbs needed for his work and sometimes even sold the especially rare ones to his colleagues. Now the former paradise had turned into ash. There was only chaos of dirt and plants ripped from their beds, the remains of burnt out trees painfully black against the clear autumn sky. 

He stood and waited. It took long for Snape to finally emerge from around the corner, still moving like a man walking in his sleep or in his death, unstable and shellshocked. Albus had expected a strong emotional reaction, but his face was perfectly empty beyond the firm set of his jaw. His formerly clean clothing was covered in soot and ash that had rained down on him while had moved in the smouldering ruin. White residue from the cinders were in his hair, mixed with other small particles of dirt. He did not cast more than one look at the garden and then marched straight up to Albus, stopping just far enough so that he remained out of physical reach. 

"Why did you bring me here?"

It wasn't a question but a demand, but there it was finally - the breaking of the voice, now not only coarse but almost choked. There were still remains of composure visible, but Snape's defences were worn down from the time in Azkaban, and as Albus had predicted the emotional onslaught of seeing what used to be his home was threatening to pull him under. It just needed one more little push. 

"First because I thought you should see it to understand what had happened. Second because I have a few questions for you, and why not ask them while looking at some evidence?"

Snape stared at Albus as if he had grown as second head, possibly in the shape of werewolf and armed with sharp teeth and nothing but bloodlust. 

"You have questions? You?"

There was only marginally more urgency in Snape's voice, but Albus noticed how he had clenched his hands to fists, knuckles whitening as his nails were digging into his palms.

"Yes, naturally. For example I'd like to know why exactly Tom Riddle killed Valentinus. The obvious answer would be because he wanted something, but he destroyed the entire property and we don't know what he took, if he took anything at all. Or did whatever he wanted die with Valentinus? Tell me, I believe you would know."

There, a nice push, not too hard yet. All he needed now was for Snape to stumble over his own emotions and betray himself. It was only a matter of time. 

But Snape only closed his eyes, apparently concentrating on breathing properly for a moment. When he looked at Albus again he must have cleared his mind and retained a semblance of control. 

"How would I know? I was here a week ago and spoke with my master, everything was as usual. Then suddenly you have absurd claims, then I get thrown into Azkaban and now you drag me here and have the audacity of questioning me? This - " He turned around and pointed at the house, covering the ruined garden with a wide, swooping handmotion, turning away from Albus - "this is not my fault. Nothing of this."

And suddenly Albus could almost feel the emotions raging in Snape, all of the misery of loss and fear that came with the sudden and brutal bereavement. The feelings came and went again, just a slight crack in the cool exterior, but they were there, and Snape was incapable of hiding them properly anymore. Albus pushed on. 

"Why would I believe you? You could just as well have sold Valentinus to Tom Riddle. You knew everything about him, his property, his work. If not you, who else?"

And that was enough. Snape turned around at a speed betraying years of duel practice, anger exploding in his face, eyes narrowed. 

"I did not betray him!"

One long index finger stabbed the air in front of Albus, underlining his every word. But even more impressively the large tree closest to them suddenly erupted into fire, the crown engulfed with blazing heat, flames licking the already blackened trunk. Surprised by the sudden heat Snape turned around again, his face falling at the result of his loss of control. Lifting both hands he made a closing motion, extinguishing the fire with a silent spell. But even with the quick reaction it was an impressive display of leaked magic due to massive emotional strain, proof to the fact that Snape did have a breaking point and that Albus had found it. 

For a moment Snape simply stared at the smoke rising from the dead tree, looking as forlorn as a person could with the ruins of the house in the background. And Albus waited, for the next move, for the right moment to pose the next question. 

But before he could say anything Snape took a deep breath, and turned around again. Staring straight at Albus a visible change had overcome him. Gone was the desperation visible just seconds ago. Instead he now focused Albus, face set into a firm mask of displeasure, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Too late Albus realised that he should have taken advantage of the moment and instead had failed to react on time.

"So this is your strategy." 

Snape's voice was still coarse with the oncoming cold, but there was a new quality in his words. Clipped, cold and precise there was no room for emotions or misunderstanding. 

"Excuse me?"

Keeping his own stance soft Albus tried to buffer the worst, but he knew had no chance to turn the situation around when Snape laughed in return. 

"You know exactly what I mean. What a noble idea, using a horrific death to further your own plan. What are you trying to achieve in taking advantage of my loss? Did you bring me here to watch me repent? Confess any sins and beg for absolution?"

Snape was of course right, painfully right. It hadn't been too difficult to find Albus out, but he still had to admit that he was impressed with Snape's ability to still see through it, given all circumstances. Albus wanted to answer, but Snape wasn't there anymore to listen. 

"There is no need to deny it. You are a honoured member of wizarding society for your achievements, but that also means that everybody knows what you have done, what you were willing to do and probably would do again. You have tried to manipulate and blackmail me, you have taken parts of my memory during our last meeting without permission or any explanation, severely damaging my mental balance. I don't care who you are or what you want, but this will end right here."

Pausing in his little speech Snape glared at Albus, and then loosed his stiff stance to hold out a hand. 

"My wand, now."

It wasn't a request.

With the dim feeling that they had been in this exact position before, just elsewhere and at another time Albus gave in. From the inside of his Burgundy robe he produced Snape's wand, and it flew out of his grasp and into Snape's open hands as soon as it was magically possible. There was no need for Albus to reach for his own wand. It was obvious that Snape has said what he had wanted to say, and that there was nothing that could possibly follow this. 

And he was right. Seconds after Snape had grasped his wand safely he stared at Albus one final time, unrelenting in the intensity of his gaze. And then he was gone, the plopp of the disapparition echoing over the destroyed garden and burnt house. Sighing Albus stared at the spot from where he had been so angrily lectured just seconds ago, wondering where exactly things had started to go off the rails and why he hadn't noticed earlier that Snape was one hell of a difficult bastard to manipulate, not matter how far he was pushed in the corner and how much emotional distress was heaped on him. There weren't many people who were willing to stand up to Albus Dumbledore, unarmed and tired to the bone with no chance of actually coming victorious out of a confrontation. It was a rare quality in anybody to be that reckless and stubborn in the face of sure defeat, and it was just what Albus needed - a man who'd need to be executed standing up because he would just not kneel. The trouble with that was just that these tended to hellishly difficult to be convinced of anything, and he knew, because he was one of them as well. 

Sighing at nothing in particular he turned around. But there before him were only the ruins of the house, still silently smoking, grey thin columns rising towards the sky until the wind carried them away.


End file.
